


so will someone come and carry me home tonight

by weatheredlaw



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning, but mostly just the word fuck, or don't do that and read it, there's weed in this fic avert your eyes or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's your secret? Big bag of weed?" -- God, does Tony love being right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so will someone come and carry me home tonight

**Author's Note:**

> there was a request for weed!fic and a general complaint that there _wasn't_ any weed fic yet so i took care of if you're welcome.

It absolutely _burns_ Tony that he's right. Like there is guessing, and then there is this goddamned beautiful, self-righteous, holy mother of god I _told you so_ feeling of being dead fucking _right_ about something and did he call it that Banner was a pothead, or did he call it?

"That is _none_ of your business," Bruce says, but the flush on his neck is crawling its way off his head and Tony can't stop grinning. Bruce takes his bag away and shoves it under the bed like a stack of Playboys, kicking it as far in as he can. "Stop it. It isn't funny."

"I just knew it. I totally and completely knew it. You are out of this world, you know that? _God_ , I called this. I called it so hard--"

"You can't have any, Tony." Bruce crosses his arms and puffs up his chest a bit and it strikes Tony, now, how small he is, compared to the Other Guy, or to any of them. He tries so hard to take up as little space as possible, but here, asserting himself and his position over his things, he's sort of...large. Like he's spread his wings a bit. Condor Bruce, wingspan no less than twenty feet, feathers ruffled, claws bared, beak open wide and he stares Tony down, until it's _Tony_ shrinking back.

"I, uh...I wasn't going to. Going to ask. I wasn't going to do that. It's your weed, I'm assuming it's...you know. Useful."

"It is, actually. Thank you for asking. Good night." Bruce puts a hand on Tony's shoulder and shoves him out of the room. "Go to _bed_ , for once."

"Well maybe if I had something to calm my nerves--"

"Good _night_ , Stark."

 

 

Tony isn't determined to get high with Bruce Banner. It's just sort of on his new list of Things I Need To Do Right The Fuck Now and Bruce isn't being very accommodating. And Tony is _asking nicely_ , if anyone wanted to know. And he's made several very fair, very valid points about the benefits of a) getting high in pairs because it is always safer to do stupid shit with friends and b) getting high with people you _like_ because it's just, you know, more fun that way. In fact, Tony can't think of any reason for Bruce _not_ to share his weed.

"I mean, it's selfish," he says. "It's a _big_ bag. Are you sure there isn't, like, an actual real reason for you being on the run? Other than damaging government property and accidentally killing people and generally being a, uh, a Hulk? Is that a thing? Wanted, for being a Hulk?"

" _The_ Hulk," Bruce says, because he's always sort of defensive about it, even if he doesn't realize it. "And yes, I'm sure it isn't because I'm a drug lord. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"It'd certainly liven up this friendship. You know what else would--"

"Well I think we're done here. We are, we're done here. Let's go get dinner."

"You got the munchies?" Tony asks. "Are you smoking without me?" Bruce rolls his eyes and closes up his work. But Tony sees it. He sees the smile trying to curl up the corners of Bruce's mouth. It isn't about wearing him down. Bruce is already worn down. He's weathered the elements, been dragged through hell and back. You can't wear him down because there is nothing left. Bruce guards himself like steel and there isn't a way to get through. 

So, no. It's not about wearing him down. 

It's about opening him up.

 

 

Tony can't find the weed anymore. Bruce is cleverer than he is. Wiser, by far. Definitely more skilled at hiding narcotics, obviously. Probably something Tony should work on, if he's going to be fraternizing with a wanted fugitive who is also, in his down time, a secret pothead. Just something he should pick up, if this is going to be a long-term relationship.

Which, like, it isn't.

They're just friends.

 

 

"What if you smoked it, and I just watched?" 

"What, you want a contact high or something?"

"Look at you, you know the lingo." 

Bruce looks up from his work, peering over his glasses at Tony. It would be almost patronizing if it wasn't so endearing. Tony smiles.

"You know, this _might_ surprise you, but I did not just start smoking weed out of the blue once the Other Guy showed up." Tony blinks. "Like, it was sort of a thing well before that."

"I knew that," Tony says, nodding. "Of course. I knew that. Obviously. What else would you have done, I mean--"

"You didn't know that." Bruce takes off his glasses and wow, is he good winning this game. _Fuck_ he is _really good_ at winning this game. Tony scowls. "You didn't know and you're trying to hide it and your _face_ right now is absolutely priceless! I wish I could keep a picture of it. Wow. This is really fun, you know that?" He folds his glasses up into his pocket and claps Tony on the shoulder. "I'm going to get lunch with Pepper. Come, if you want."

Tony stands in the lab, sort of frozen in his spot, stumped by two things: that Banner was always winning this game, well before it started. And that he and Pepper are _going to lunch_ , which is weird by itself because Pepper doesn't go to lunch with anyone. She likes to eat her Cobb salad in relative peace and quiet. 

"You can't _go to lunch_ with Pepper. Especially alone!" Tony yells and runs after him. Bruce is waiting at the top of the stairs, smiling and shaking his head. And maybe this is what Tony has been trying to do. Maybe this is a part of that. The not-so-much-wearing-down plan. The opening plan. Because he's seen Bruce smile in a day more than he had in a week when Tony first knew him. And this whole self-effacing, incredible shrinking man act is sort of dying off and Bruce is _taking up space_ and he's spreading his wings and it's kind of beautiful, in a weird, are-we-friends? voyeuristic sort of way. 

"Come on, Stark," he mutters. "Let's go get lunch with Miss Potts."

 

 

He actually doesn't even care anymore. Really. He isn't leaning over Bruce's shoulder, trying to see if he can smell it on him because he's not doing it in his room, Tony knows. JARVIS would totally (probably, he's not sure, JARVIS and Bruce are like, friends?) tell him if Bruce was lighting up a bong in his room, or smoking joints with the bathroom window cracked because that is how adults smoke weed around other adults who think it's totally cool.

Sometimes, Tony is the biggest idiot he knows.

 

 

No one's been to the balcony since they sent Loki and his blue cube of what the fuck ever back into space. It's probably not safe, and Tony can think of cooler places to be. 

But right now, this? This might be one of them.

"Looks like I found your hiding spot, guru." Bruce looks at the joint in his hand, then back at Tony, and shrugs. "I probably always _knew_ you were out here? It's just a fucking mess and I was too lazy to take the stairs."

"Yeah, I figured it might have been something like that." He takes a hit and yeah, okay, they're only friends, but Tony is allowed to think that he looks really, _really_ good when he does it. "I'm probably going to regret this later." He holds the joint out. "Get over here and get high with me, okay?" 

And Tony doesn't need to be told twice. It's been a solid ten years since he smoked anything because he picked his poison a long time ago and whiskey isn't illegal. But he figures it's like riding a bike, or ordering your first drink -- you never forget.

Except the burn.

You forget that.

And the way you can't stop coughing, like your body belongs to someone else.

Bruce actually _laughs_ , which is really fucking nice to hear because Tony was worried he might not ever hear it. At all. And it's loud and it's like music. So Tony takes another hit. And it goes down smoother, this time. Bruce takes it back. 

"Do you feel better now?" he asks. Tony shrugs. "I don't smoke it because it makes it easier to keep calm. You already know that isn't what I do." 

_I'm always angry._

Bruce shakes his head. "I don't know. It's just what we did. We'd go to work and bust our asses, and then we'd go to someone's house and get baked and take cabs home and then we'd do it all over again the next day." He looks over at Tony. "It's just a good memory, you know? I don't have a lot. I have to keep them safe." 

Tony should probably just get it tattooed on his face: Huge Fucking Asshole. That sounds good.

"I should go back down," he says quietly. "You should--" 

"Please. Don't." Bruce takes a step forward, wrapping his hand around Tony's wrist. "You don't have to."

"This is your thing. I was stupid and I ruined it--"

"Tony. If I didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here. If I didn't _want to be here_ , then I wouldn't be." He rubs a hand over his face and takes another hit. "I stayed here because you _asked_ me to. And because I was tired of running. I don't have to, anymore. I could go wherever, but right now, I just want to be here. And maybe, in a few weeks, I'll get that itch again, you know? It'd be nice, to go without...without hiding. From anyone. I mean, someone's always going to be looking for me. That's just...that's a fact. But right now, I don't have to worry about it. I want to be here with you. And I want you to get high with me and I'd like to get high with you again. It'd be nice." 

Tony has something witty to say, probably. He usually does. He'll check later, if he can be bothered to. 

He hasn't heard Bruce say this much about himself. Ever. To him, anyone. Something that made him _smile._

"Yeah," Tony finally says. "Okay." And Bruce's face splits wide in a smile. He sits down on the ground. Tony follows. 

"Here. I want to do something with you." Bruce takes a long hit and cups his hand behind Tony's neck, drawing him in. Tony opens his mouth, letting Bruce cover it with his own and he inhales. 

And then Bruce sort of doesn't take his mouth off Tony's as he drops the joint and brings up his other hand, keeping him there, tightening his fingers in his hair and kissing him, _effortlessly._

There was a lot that Tony didn't know about Bruce before he came here. This was one of them. This feeling. How it would make _him_ feel. And fuck if he doesn't really know. If he can't describe it worth a damn. And it isn't because he's high or whatever. It's because this is, like, _big._ It's this thing that's sort of welling up in his throat and threatening to spill over indefinitely, no end in sight, close everything else off because well _fuck me sideways_ , he thinks. This is probably it.

And now he has a lapful of physicist and that is totally, absolutely, completely fine with him. 

"I would sort of like to go inside and rock your world, if that's alright with you," Tony says, enjoying the moment. Bruce laughs.

"It's funny because I was about to say the same thing."

"You weren't."

"Oh, I was. And, uh, I will, in case you were wondering." Bruce presses his lips to Tony's forehead.

"Guess I'm learning something new about you every day." 

Oh god, he's laughing again. Tony shivers because fuck it's music, it's a goddamned _song_ , is what it is and he's going to save it, for as long as he can.

"You wanna keep learning?" he asks.

"For the love of all that is holy, Banner. Yes. I do."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] So Will Someone Come and Carry Me Home Tonight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663533) by [decoy_ocelot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decoy_ocelot/pseuds/decoy_ocelot)




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